


Control

by aishahiwatari



Series: Trektober 2019 [12]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alpha Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Comfort, Crying, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega James T. Kirk, Protectiveness, Rimming, Self-Esteem Issues, Swearing, Threats of Violence, Towards OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: "Been a hell of a day, Jim,” Bones muses, and there’s something dark and resonant, something fragile and breathless in his voice. “Someone tampered with the medical supplies in the clinic. Every suppressed omega at the academy’s going into heat. Every alpha’s becoming more easily governed by their animal instincts. There’s a new shipment coming in, but-“ he sighs again, and Jim itches to comfort him, to touch him and stroke his skin, thread fingers in his hair, draw him in to breathe Jim’s soothing omega scent until he feels better- “for those of us who’ve already started, it’s too late.”(for day 12 of Trektober 2019, prompt: Pillow biting)





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Dubious consent warning due to the whole unexpected heat scenario. They both love and want each other, they just wouldn't have said anything otherwise.

Jim whimpers.

It’s okay, nobody’s around to hear it.

Well, it’s not okay, not at all, but if Jim knows anything it’s that the only thing worse than going into heat unexpectedly is having it happen while other people are around.

As though any of them need another excuse not to take him seriously. It’s bad enough that they know his secondary gender at all, since some overzealous journalist leaked it when he was a teenager. Seeing him wet and aching and desperate for something to fill him might actually blow their minds.

And Jim is definitely all of those things, at the moment. He hasn’t had a proper heat for years, has always come off his suppressants after waiting the maximum recommended period of time between breaks and started taking them again before his heat really broke. It’s taken the edge off for so long, but his body seems to be making up for lost time, and his stupid Starfleet-issue suppressants are doing nothing against it.

He can’t make it to the clinic, not like this, and the last thing he needs is someone from an Alpha Service blabbing about him to the press, so he’s dealing with it on his own.

At least he’s on his bed and his door is locked and Bones is working the night shift and he’s a beta, anyway, so he won’t even have to know, as long as Jim doesn’t give himself away by doing anything ridiculous like begging him to fuck him.

God, Jim wishes Bones were here. He’d be so calm, so kind, and his hands would be warm and comforting but cooling on Jim’s heated skin, touching him like he was precious and fragile but holding him down like there’s nothing he could do to fight it.

That’s a dream, of course, one clouded by implausible romance and fantasy but it seems to be enough to have Jim leaking afresh all over his formerly clean sheets. He’s naked, because he can’t stand to have anything too close to his skin, and even his bedding feels impossibly harsh. He’s sensitive, physically and emotionally, and when he reaches down to try and slake his helpless lust with fingers shoved deep inside himself-four, fuck, he should not be this needy so early on, that does not bode well at all- he wants to sob with how viscerally he knows that it’s just not enough.

He doesn’t have any toys, doesn’t keep them around, has never thought about that, but everything remotely phallic in shape is beginning to look tempting. He’s never been more able to relate to those cadets who turn up at the clinic to complain to Bones about having something entirely inappropriate lodged inside them.

Bones is a good friend, Jim thinks vaguely, squeezing his eyes shut as the very thought of his best damn friend in the fucking universe makes his ass clench and drip with slick. He’d bring Jim something from the clinic if he asked. Stop by in his lunch break, drop off a cheap dildo and a few bottles of nutrient shake, make sure he had a glass of water.

It’s so close to and yet so far from exactly what Jim wants at that moment. And he knows with abject certainty that he will never let Bones see him like this, a slave to his own biology and whoever offers to shove their dick in him.

Even if the contortions of his body make his wrist cramp as he desperately tries to take his own fingers deeper; even if his knuckles push against the hypersensitive nerve endings of his hole like they might slide past with only a little more work; even if the slightest graze to his prostate, difficult at this angle, makes him want to scream, he won’t-

The front door opens. He’s in his room, the size of a cupboard with enough space for a single bed and nothing else but his, alone. The soundproofing is not up to much, or anything at all, though, because he hears Bones’ voice, hears it crack and stutter to a halt and then shape around emphatic swearing.

“Holy shit, man, you should have said.”

It’s that- shit, Jim can’t remember his name, some other medical track cadet who’s a complete ass and frankly the last person Jim needs in his space at that moment. Apparently, he’s an alpha, and Jim’s locked the door to his room and jammed the mechanism but he doesn’t know if that will hold against a concerted effort to get to him and fuck, Bones will try to help and if he gets hurt Jim will never forgive himself.

“Get out,” Bones says, tone deep and commanding like nothing Jim has ever heard before, though, and he has to grit his teeth to hold back the aroused whimper that threatens to escape. He can hear them, but they can hear him too, and Jim focuses with all he has on staying silent.

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you’d blame a guy for drinking in that scent-“

There’s a slam, so loud Jim tenses, is on his feet before he can think, moving towards the door except it’s Bones’ voice he hears next and it drives him to his knees.

“You say one more fucking word and I will make you regret it. I’m not some fucking baby med student like you. I know exactly how to kill you and make it look like an accident. And if you don’t get out right now that’s exactly what’s going to happen. And if you’re thinking of going to the faculty, and telling them about any of this, saying that I threatened you- I’ll deny it. Now, who do you think they’re gunna believe?”

Holy shit. Bones is a badass. Jim’s kneeling on the floor, presses his forehead against the cool solidity of the door, smiles to himself because Starfleet might have been a last resort, a ridiculous attempt to prove himself but it’s brought him the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’ll never regret getting on that shuttle as long as Bones is still around.

His fingers are sticky, still drenched in his slick. Jim stares at them, rubs the pads of his fingers and thumb together, so theoretically pleasant but deeply unfamiliar.

Footsteps sound, and they fade, and the door to their rooms slide shut, and Bones lets out a long sigh so loud Jim hears it. And then there are more footsteps, and a thud as something hits the connecting wall and then slides down it, like Bones is sitting there, as close to Jim as he can manage. His head hits the wall, too, and Jim touches his clean fingers to where he imagines it must be.

“Been a hell of a day, Jim,” Bones muses, and there’s something dark and resonant, something fragile and breathless in his voice. “Someone tampered with the medical supplies in the clinic. Every suppressed omega at the academy’s going into heat. Every alpha’s becoming more easily governed by their animal instincts. There’s a new shipment coming in, but-“ he sighs again, and Jim itches to comfort him, to touch him and stroke his skin, thread fingers in his hair, draw him in to breathe Jim’s soothing omega scent until he feels better- “for those of us who’ve already started, it’s too late.”

Jim freezes. That’s not-

He holds back a shrill keening sound as fresh slick drips from him, trickles along his thighs and drips onto the floor.

He thinks it’s not possible, but his body knows it is. He’s beginning to feel it, and he can’t technically smell the pheromones but his mind’s filling in the gaps, good bourbon and smoke and a somehow not-unpleasant tinge of medical disinfectant.

Bones is not a beta.

But then, if Jim had a choice, he wouldn’t have said anything about being an omega, either.

“I would honestly have killed that guy if he’d tried to touch you. But if there’s someone you want me to fetch. Or you just want to go this alone. I won’t stop you.”

“Computer, open the door.”

Jim can’t stand, with the threat of wrenching pain inside him when he tries to straighten up, so he crawls, but he was right and Bones is already sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, and he holds out his arms for Jim to push into them, to kiss him before he can think better of it, only the vaguest impression of hungry hazel eyes tinged with red at the edges before he allows his body to take over.

Bones kisses like he’s trying to suck the oxygen from Jim’s lungs, his hands gentle and somehow everywhere. He’s not afraid to use his teeth, either, bites and sucks at Jim’s lips and then along his jaw and down his throat when Jim attempts to rid him of his clothing, the last accursed barrier between them. Bones is everything, the person Jim trusts the most and could least stand losing, the closest Jim has ever come to having an alpha of his own.

“Please,” Jim breathes, before he can stop himself, before he can think too much about how he has to be good, has to be perfect, has to allow Bones to take care of him. He needs to stop talking, to stop giving so much away, because the pleasure is overwhelming -and he was right, Bones’ hands are big and warm and comforting whether they’re smoothing over the skin of his back or wrapping around his throat- and Jim gets stupid during sex, says all kinds of things he doesn’t mean.

Things like I want you to be mine. Don’t ever let me go. You can have every single part of me. I love you.

No, he definitely can’t go saying any of that. He’s in heat and close to senseless but he still knows enough, works at Bones’ pants with trembling, frantic hands and mouths, “Bed,” into his mouth and gets a snarl in response, a fresh rush of slick when Bones hauls them both to their feet and takes them in the direction of his room, where the sheets and everything else smell like him, where he confesses he’s thought about this, has wanted it for a long time.

Jim can’t respond, just absorbs that warmth and rolls with it, crawls across Bones’ bed and arches his back and presses his shoulders into the mattress and presents, needing to be filled. He’s waited so long, needs no preparation but Bones touches him anyway, caresses the rim of his hole with those skilled fingers, leans in to swipe slick, heated flesh with his tongue, to push it deep inside Jim and groan at how he tastes and make him scream until Jim finds some semblance of control and bites down on the pillow beneath his head in an attempt to stop some of the stupid words from escaping.

Bones never stops touching him, acts like he can’t stand to let Jim go, is soft and sweet and warm except for exactly where it matters, where he’s hot and hard and he pushes inside of Jim without hesitation, makes him choke down a desperate, emotional sound because it’s perfect and he’s not worth it, can’t possibly deserve it, this feeling that he’s complete, with Bones.

It’s not meant for him, is just a product of their combined hormones, Jim tells himself and keeps telling himself as his jaw begins to ache with the strain of clenching against all that threatens to emerge, all the words that belong in a romance novel or a terrible porno but not in Jim’s life, never there.

Except Bones slows and then all-but stops, makes a sweet soothing sound that pools at the base of Jim’s spine, buries deep and rolls his hips so that Jim’s needful and unable to resist, limp from the pressure on his swollen prostate when he attempts to pull him up, away from the only thing that’s keeping him from confessing all his terrible sins, his lust and affection and love for his best friend, for the one person he’s always known he doesn’t deserve, can never possibly earn.

Bones settles Jim in his lap, wraps a strong arm around his chest and fucks up into him, makes him sob and writhe and keen because it’s all anybody could ever want. Jim doesn’t want to ruin it, is so intent on holding back his words that he sobs, only for Bones to bury his face in Jim’s throat and tell him, as guiltily as if he’s the one who couldn’t possibly do better, “I love you, Jim.”

Jim comes with a shrill shriek of a sound, not sexy at all but Bones holds him close and murmurs words of comfort to him, tells him he’s beautiful and gorgeous like he’s never looked in a mirror before, has no idea what sort of alpha he is and what sort of omega Jim isn’t.

And when Bones fills him with come, he doesn’t stop there, asks with genuine concern like there’s any possibility Jim might refuse his knot, like he might not want to be stretched wide around the best person he’s ever met, one with so much to say but such infinite patience for Jim’s ridiculous bullshit.

They melt together, down into the sheets, beneath the blanket Bones pulls over them both, into warmth and comfort and Jim sinks his teeth into synthetic fibres to stop from saying how much he wants this, how easily he could allow himself to depend on this.

Through it all, Bones is buried deep inside him, presses kisses to Jim’s throat, tells him everything he’s ever held back and waits patiently, like he knows what Jim feels and it doesn’t matter that he can’t bring himself to say it.

With every moment, he proves he’s so much better than Jim deserves. And he doesn’t care in the slightest about that imbalance, holds Jim close and soothes him when he begins to cry. He doesn’t push him, doesn’t seem to care that Jim can’t return any of those sentiments, that he couldn’t say the words unless his life depended on it, and maybe not even then.

He’s so much better than Jim deserves.

And Jim’s never going to let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also on [Tumblr](https://aishahiwatari.tumblr.com/)


End file.
